Iapetus & Theia
by Blamnie
Summary: "Lightning strikes the fallen branch of a tree; setting it ablaze" My own version of the confrontation between Lightning and Snow in Lightning Returns. Oneshot SxL


**_A/N: Soooo glad to be writing in this fandom again!_**  
**_^_^_**

**_So I wrote this oneshot after getting bored of waiting for Lightning Returns and needing a Snow/Light fix._**

**_(Plus angsty Snow is my crack, I friggin love writing angsty Snow)_**

**_Thank you for reading!_**

**_Please review, I'm an egomaniac_**

**_XxX_**

* * *

Iapetus & Theia

From the moment our lives become our own; we have been taught the meaning of freedom.

Or at least the allusions of it.

We're encouraged to strive towards freedom, to chase it, to aspire to it as an acknowledgment of greatness. We're taught to be ourselves: free speech, free will. Love who we want, live how we want.

And because of this; the concept of a prison is something that has always eluded me. When I was young and hopeful, a prison cell was an obscure extreme that seemed far removed from my own reality. To be incarcerated meant to be punished; and I planned to do no wrong. I planned on becoming a hero.

But, as you can tell, time teaches the cruellest lessons . The prison became my home where the walls I mercilessly beat for freedom are in my mind. I have created my own penance for my shortcomings: my failures as a husband, as a comrade, as a man. And now I watch and wait for the end, knowing that I'll never know freedom again until I succumb to the dark fate which awaits me.

The world outside is descending into chaos as we near our final days. I'm left with only my misery to sooth me through the thunder. My prison is no longer the binding burden it once was. In these fretting times it has evolved into a necessity, a security blanket which I tighten around my shoulders. These impenetrable walls no longer keep me confined; instead they protect me from the horrors stirring beyond them. Not a soul may reach me in solitary; and that's the way it has to be.

I watch from my vantage point high in the sky; towering over the city of Yusnaan. The wall length windows of my abode allow the skyline to unfold beneath my gaze; so vast that my view can't stretch to the edges of it. The horizon blurs into a multitude of lights which bleed into the night sky. They seep through the blackness and emit a sickly orange glow which hovers like a dome over the city. The people below continue to drink themselves into varying degrees of intoxication. The party continues to strive without me; and it will carry on until the end finally comes. The people have given in to the prospect of the end of the world and discarded their inhibitions along the way.

The whole situation is enough to make anyone laugh, or at least scoff in disapproval. But not me. Not anymore. It strikes so similar to an ancient proverb which resides vaguely somewhere in my memory:

_'If the living man tells the dying man that death will soon consume him; the dying man will take whatever he so desires away from the living man. He does not do this out of the darkness in his heart; he is not evil or cruel or full of spite. He does not do this because he is scared or fearful of the toils of the afterlife which await. The dying man does this simply because he believes that he is entitled to.'_

The sudden raucous clatter from just beyond my bedroom door is enough to startle me. Stirring from my daze, I contemplate investigation; but the alcohol already in my blood blurs my line of vision and my limbs refuse to cooperate. Instead I attempt to steady myself by leaning one hand against the glass pane beside me and shaking the fogginess from my vision with the other. I catch the faint lines of my reflection in the window. I'm a mess.

Streaks of blonde fall into my bloodshot eyes as my disheveled hair skims my shoulders. My undershirt and the heavy-duty jacket I once wore are crumpled on the floor somewhere in the dark confides of my room. The laces of my shoes sit carelessly untied; yet I have no intention of removing them from my feet. I notice that the engagement pendant is no longer hanging from my neck. Before, such a realisation would evoke a sharp pang of guilt. But now, nothing. The thing had begun to feel more like a noose recently anyway. My towering frame somehow seems much smaller when placed in contrast with the dark depth of my room. The living quarters project a false perception of grandeur which comes with the enormity of them. Far too big for one person. But these are the perks of being the patron of Yusnaan; more corners to lose myself in.

A sequence of heavy thuds and clashes outside my door beg for my attention. I am almost certain that I hear voices beyond the brass. Suddenly the handle is cranked and the heavy frame swings open. The artificial light from the hallway to floods into my darkness. A single figure stands in silhouette.

She says nothing.

Trust Lightning to be the brave soul who dares to barrage her way back into my life without so much of a "Hello". As my eyes adjust to the changing light that filters into my darkness; I can make out the pinkish hue of her trademark tresses falling over her shoulder. Her carefully fitted evening attire much more understated than that getup she had been parading around in recently.

Any person is born with an innate sense of paranoia. The notion that we, ourselves are important enough to be of interest to a stranger is what builds our ego; no matter how selfless we claim to be. And as frightening as paranoia may seem, it's something that is vital in order to drive us in protecting what is ours. I know she's been following me.

It's been two days since Lightning struck in Yusnaan and she's been tailing me ever since. She's been asking for me, following my footsteps. And admittedly, I've been dodging her attempts at a reunion. There is nothing left for her here anymore; the people she once knew have perished in this cruel new world.

It has occurred to me that she may be searching for vengeance. If that is the case, I welcome her. She deserves it. If she came here intending to kill me, I'll allow her that pleasure. The ending world would be better off for it and the ghost which casts its shade over us will finally be exorcised.

She walks. She just walks towards me. Her shoulders broad and challenging, her lines harsh and direct. Her stare is unflinching and unnerving. Her eyes travel through me and all of a sudden I feel violated by her. Such a simple gesture strikes a harsh chord with me. It's possibly the most careless move she's ever made; but my god, it's the bravest I've seen for a long time.

She steps with intention, her stance stubborn and strong. There is a distinct feeling of bitterness which radiates from every fiber of Lightning's being. Yet there is a hesitation which comes from grievance and mourning, made evident by the occasional fault in her stride. Instantly I can tell that Serah's death still plays painfully fresh in her thoughts. I know the feeling.

"So here you are." Her voice seems alien as it breaks the silence consuming us; but at the same time familiar. Her stern tone remains harsh and unchanged, and I find myself thankful for that.

It's been over half a millennia and she's still able to retain this much spunk. Her backbone never wilting, the stern curves of her frown refusing to soften. She's been frozen in time; every inch of her body, every ounce of her being. I could easily stop and marvel at such a feat; yet my wallowing leaves little room for admiration.

"So here I am." I answer. I sound hollow, drained, the noise stings my ears.

"Look at you…" Lightning marvels, hints of disbelief laced with disappointment echo in her voice. She drags her gaze up and down my unsteady frame. "The state of you…" now I fail to identify the emotion in her voice. Her eyes finally move up to meet my own. "You gave up."

"yep, take a good look, Light. You knew I'd screw it up didn't you? Looks like you were right all along." I open my arms and present myself to her.

_Snow Villiers: the portrait of a broken man._

"Stop it." Her hum is so low I almost miss it.

I stand up tall, puffing my chest out as I welcome her offensive. Frustration rises to her cheeks as she lunches towards me. Her clenched fist collides with my open palm as even I am baffled by my own reflexes. I draw my arm back, yanking her down along with it. She stumbles forward as she loses her fist in my grasp. I feel like she isn't even trying.

Lightning breathes a low growl and sends a flush of heat along the skin of my shoulder as she struggles to free her arm from my grip. Her flustered effort only spurs me to tighten my hold. I'm quickly becoming a desperate man. I raise my gaze from her arm to her face. Her features playing an emotion that I can't quite figure out. My questions are soon purged from my mind as she forces her knee into my gut. The blow causes me to double over and release her from my hold. My heart pumps heavily against my chest as I splutter and heave. I guess I'm out of shape.

Lightning's hands move to grasp at my shoulders, forcing me upright again. She steadies me so that our faces become level with one another.

"This the bit where you save my soul, huh?!" My voice sounds more like a goading taunt than anything else.

I'm so close to her now that I can clearly see betrayal play upon her features. A slight shake of her head and a clench of her jaw and she's poised for attack. But it never comes. Instead she slides her hands from my shoulders up to my face and yanks my head down to hers. Our mouths meet in a harsh kiss and I'm hit with a bolt of heat in my chest.

She continues to clutch onto the sides of my face as we break away from one another; her uncertain hands clawing along the skin of my jaw. Her once cerulean eyes of surety now betraying her. She looks lost, confused and frustrated as she scans my face. Her jaw stays locked and her brow heavy; I have never been able to tell whether she intends to kiss me or kill me. Her breathes remain laboured and thick; yet her vanity forces her to attempt to conceal it. I can't help but focus on her hands, and the fact that they haven't reached down to shift my own from their place at small of her back.

Lighting remains in my embrace briefly; clothed chest flush against my bare skin. Her stance is almost vulnerable, as if I am the only thing keeping her steady. She looks dazed but all the more wild, there is no anger there, and I'm beginning to doubt there ever was. She's desperate, but for what? My compliance? Instead of breaking away from me she leans in again, kissing me hard.

This time, I cannot find the will inside myself to fight the heat which begins to rapidly spread; it's ignited beyond exhaustion. Instead I throw myself into it, clutching at the first signs of life I have felt in years.

Without hesitation I force her body backwards; our entangled frames colliding callously with the durable glass of my window pane. A breathy grunt escapes Lightning's mouth as the impact from the collision grounds somewhere in her chest; the result is a gentle hum against my lips. My hands come to grip tightly to the pale flesh of her legs as she anchors herself against me. The feeling of tracing my fingertips along the skin of her thigh underneath the rising hem of the dress sends a searing pain through my chest. It is then that I'm reminded how damn lonely I've been. I had spent centuries perfecting my isolation; distancing myself from contact and becoming something so far removed from human that I had forgotten what this feels like. Yet, a few moments with someone as desperate as I has shattered my resolve and reverted me to the hot mess of impulses and feeling that I used to be. Lightning feels it too; I can tell as her chest heaves beneath me. Her lips open in a groan as she secures her legs around my waist before returning her mouth to mine. She's all teeth and tongue. We waste no time with pleasantries, with tenderness or gentle consideration; we have spent far too long denying ourselves of self-indulgence. Far too long believing that we are unworthy, that we are guilty. That we are failures.

In that moment I am free. I regain the will to move my limbs, to break myself from my own confines and let somebody share my burden for once. My hands skim over Lightning's backside as I hoist her body away from the glass and carry her weight with me. Our intertwined forms stumble as one as I navigate my way through the darkness of my room. My legs eventually collide with the foot of my bed sending the both of us toppling onto the mattress. My impulse is to brace my fall, ensuring that I don't bury her under my weight; but she denies me the privilege as her fingers curl into my hair, forcing our lips together again.

Lightning strikes the fallen branch of a tree; setting it ablaze. Embers smoulder throughout the charred remains; igniting the briefest illusion of life amongst the dead. Suddenly I realise that the growing ache, the burning in my chest, is my will to live.

* * *

Sleep never does come to me afterwards. Instead I remain in a state between consciousness; where I'm slightly numb but all the more blissful because of it. Lightning engages me in an obscure formula of pillow-talk where she fills in my blanks. She's getting the band back together, regrouping our comrades from the last time we saved the world. She hopes this will somehow coheres history into repeating itself. At least that's what she tells me, but I suspect there are greater powers at play; a reason for her to be brought back. I don't pry because I'm not sure I want to know. Despite the secrecy, I still believe that the Snow Villiers that she left behind would be ecstatic at the thought of a reunion; punching his fists into the air in triumph. But the skeptic which lives beneath my skin now is not so forthcoming. Life has challenged us all in different ways, forcing us to change, forcing us to grow. Grow apart.

I lie with my back to her, watching the skyline as the night begins to simmer away. My bed sheets carelessly adorning our entangled bodies. Lightning rests with her head against my shoulder; her small frame cradling my over-sized one from behind. She drapes a pale arm across my side with her hand pressed to the center of my chest. I wonder if she is surprised when she discovers a heartbeat thumping faintly beneath her fingertips. I guess I am still human after all, if only just.

My large hand covers her own as she shifts behind me, pressing her cool cheek to my heated skin. For a moment I get a fleeting glimpse of what can only be described as contentment. But, as everything these days, it's short lived.

"You didn't let her down." The words seem to come from nowhere. I guess this is Lightning's method of comfort. She's out of practice, I can tell. The tone doesn't suit her, it's uncharacteristically soft and docile, lacking the distinct edge of her natural voice. Impulse urges me to object, but I'm far too drained to contend with her now. So I buck up and allow her to finish; silently relishing the feel of her moving lips against my exposed shoulder blade.

"I did." She exhales deeply and I feel her eyelashes flutter as she closes her lids. "Serah knew what would happen, but she chose to follow the path she did in spite of that. Because the greater good was always worth it for her. We wouldn't have been able to stop her even if we tried."

"You really believe that?" My voice sceptical.

"I have to." She answers. "Otherwise the guilt would eat away at me until there was nothing left."

"You mean like it did to me?" I wince slightly at the sound of my voice as I'm plagued by the centuries I've spent dwelling in my own shadow. It's time that I'll never get back.

"Yes."

Some may claim that Lightning is honest to a fault, but it is a trait I find refreshing; honesty has become a rarity for me lately.

The hand on my chest shifts and glides gently across my torso until her body leaves its place behind me. I feel the change in the mattress as her weight lifts from it. Cool air hits my back in her absence. Lightning briefly fumbles behind me before her form glides into my line of vision. A dim light illuminates only a small fraction of her nakedness as she gathers fabric from the floor and hugs to her chest before slipping it over her head. Her skin seems paler in the gloom of my bedroom; the many scars which adorn her are faded but no less present.

"We need to go, time isn't exactly on our side." She grunts whilst she grapples with her footwear, her back turned to me.

I feel a slight twinge of nostalgia stir inside me whilst I mindlessly follow her command. The memory causes a subtle grin to tug at the corners of my mouth as I sit myself upright and scan the floor for my discarded clothing. I carefully eye her in my peripheral as I pull on the dark fabric of my underwear, preserving my modesty. Lightning has still not turned to face me by the time I secure the fastening on the front of my pants.

A spontaneous glance downward allows me to catch a glimpse of the dark brand which scolds the skin along my forearm. The sight of it alone forces the painful reality of my predicament to rear its ugly head again; not that it was ever far from my thoughts. A shallow sigh pushes passed my lips as I bow my head in sombre gesture.

"My days are numbered" The familiar gruffness of my voice doesn't even begin to reflect the weight in my chest.

"I know." Her voice monotonous; yet far from the detachment and frigidity which it used to linger in her words. Instead her calmly hum is tranquil and soothing, teasing me with an offering of peace.

I turn to her, my gaze met with the back of her head and she fixes peach tresses across her shoulder. For some reason her aloofness irritates me, more than it should. A heated temper threatens to rise within me and I'm suddenly clueless as to how to subdue the beast. This isn't me.

_This isn't me._

It's my fate, ever taunting, presenting me with the darkness which will soon become overpowering. She has to know what she's dealing with, they all do. I'm a time-bomb that's ticking down on a blank timer. Nobody can predict when I'll detonate.

Rage forces me to lunge forward and clutch onto Lightning's shoulder. My grip is tight, harsh as I yank her around to face me. Her hand grasps starkly at my throat on reflex. At last I'm finally met by her icy stare. I lower my head, levelling our faces before I speak.

"When the time comes…" I warn, my voice low, my tone solemn.

"I'll deal with it." Her hand flexes in a complementary squeeze around my neck to emphasize her point. Our eye contact remains unbroken. I slowly release my hold on her shoulder as the fire begins to subside within me. A familiar calm settles comfortably in the pit of my stomach and relaxes my body. I can feel my expression as it softens in an apologetic gesture. The offering briefly reassures Lightning as she reluctantly releases the hold on my throat yet still retains the threat in her eyes.

"I promise." She adds, but I detect a slight crack in in her voice and the faintest sign of grimace as her lips twitch downwards. The bravado she wears so proudly is bound to slip from time to time. I tell myself that she's pained at the thought of watching me descend into chaos; that a small part of her is dreading the inevitability of letting me go. But I convince myself that it's just wishful thinking. The reality of my demise wouldn't be so romanticised; I'll just go. One moment I'll be an ally, the next a foe, and it will be beyond my control.

My thoughts are interrupted as Lightning spontaneously reaches up to drape her arms around my shoulders. Her chest meets mine and her head rests limply against my collarbone. It takes a instant for me to return her embrace but the moment passes by all to quickly and the air seeps back in between us; it feels all the more frigid as we stand now as strangers.

She turns away from me again, signalling another hint for me to make a move. We need to leave, find the others, save the world. The usual.  
Dawn is only just breaking beyond the horizon, streaking the night sky with warm hues of pink and yellow, yet my quarters remain in darkness. Lightning is already standing in the doorway, exposing my shadowed abode to the blaring light of the hallway ahead of her. The glare illuminates her front, leaving her silhouette imprinted in my memory as she walks away.

I don't know if we can prevent the damnation of this world. I don't know when I'll finally succumb to the brand of my forearm. And I don't know if my soul can be salvaged before I do.

But I am certain that I am destined to follow her.


End file.
